


An Exercise in Control

by AnOddSock



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Again, Angry Sam Winchester, Bondage, Canon-Typical Violence, Dean Makes Mistakes, Dean Winchester Makes Bad Decisions, Gen, Hurt Sam, Hurt Sam Winchester, Magical Artifacts, Magical Bondage, Mark of Cain, Mind Control, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Non-Sexual Bondage, Oops, POV Dean Winchester, POV Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Sam has no bodily autonomy, Sensory Deprivation, Slight Body Modification, Sort of a litle, but still, mentions of torture, with good reason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-10
Updated: 2017-09-14
Packaged: 2018-12-26 01:41:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,887
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12048672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnOddSock/pseuds/AnOddSock
Summary: Sam gets caught and tortured by someone trying to find the bunkers location. After Dean and Cas find him they try and figure out how to undo what was done to him. As the weeks pass Dean finds himself a little tempted to use the magical artifact himself...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I set this during the Mark of Cain arc as it's the only way I could see this going down this way.
> 
> Enjoy!

Sam had been missing for three days. Which in the grand scheme of things wasn't that long. He'd been missing for longer than that before and been fine, and if not fine, then at least alive.

That didn't stop Dean's nerves from being frayed the second he realized Sam was gone. Didn't stop him from running on no sleep and coffee and adrenaline.

Cas had helped him chase down every lead, any stone they may have left unturned. It had eventually led them here, to this abandoned factory.  
Dean inwardly shuddered just looking at it, nothing good ever happened in their line of work in places like this.

Cas let Dean take the lead, presumably knowing that being in control was exactly what Dean needed right now. They moved in swift and quiet, following the same rules they always did, not wanting to miss a thing or mess this up.

A methodical sweep of the building, rooms ticked off and areas cleared, and Dean felt his chest getting a little tighter every time Sam didn’t materialise out of the gloom. He **had** to be here. Through a last maze of small rooms and then out onto the factory floor they found him, propped up against a back wall in semi darkness surrounded by broken machinery.

He didn't look good.

But on the other hand it also didn't look _that_ bad. Sam was barely restrained. Just one cuff on one ankle tethering him to the wall.  
And Dean had a moment to wonder why, or how, he hadn't managed to break himself out yet. Until he took another step forward and saw, well, just a lot of blood.

_Oh_

Yeah, that'd do it. Sam's clothes were covered in it. Caked dry and sticking to him, dark brown-black and red more than they were any other colour. 

Dean ran the last few feet to his brother, crouching down to take Sam's face gently in his hands. Sam opened his eyes and lifted his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips when he saw Dean's face a few inches away.

“Let's get you outta here Sammy.”

Sam groaned something back as Dean got to work picking the lock on the ankle cuff.

“Come on now, you're gonna be fine.”

“Can't.” Sam said.

“Course you can, we've been through worse. We got you.” All bluster obviously as he had no idea what had gone on here, or why.

Cas stepped forward then and touched two fingers to Sam's forehead. Nothing happened. Cas frowned and tried again.  
“Is it your grace? Do you not have enough juice?” 

“No, that's not it. Something is blocking my power. I can't get through it to Sam.”

“Okay so we'll deal with that later. Let's just get him out.” Dean replied.

Sam tried to protest but they each got a shoulder under one of his arms and hauled him to his feet. Sam squeezed his eyes shut and hissed through the pain. Stumbling, head lolling, barely holding any of his weight himself. So, yeah, that must be a lot of pain.

A few steps towards the door they'd entered through they were confronted by two figures. Two robed figures. Which Dean thought looked stupid more than intimidating but these were also the guys who'd done this to his little brother, so…

“Going somewhere?” one of them asked. And dammit if Dean didn't feel Sam tense next to him at the sound of his voice.

“Yeah you son of a bitch, we're leaving and maybe if you don't get in our way we'll give you a couple of days head start before we hunt you down.” A lie, but nothing is ever as easy as the bad guy stepping out of the way so a few more seconds to size up their opponents can't hurt.

“Ah. See, I don't think so.” drawled robe number one.  
He pushed his hood back, drew out his hand and waved something small and square, a shiny silver dice, in their direction.

Sam, now with his head lifted and fully focused on what was going on around them, tried to take a halting step backwards. Robe guy closed his fingers around whatever was in his hand and a faint purple glow emerged from it.  
Dean had almost half a second to wonder what that was all about before Sam screamed.

The scream tore it's way out of his throat as he dropped to his knees.  
Dean looked at Cas, saw bewilderment matching his own on Cas's face, looked back to his brother and saw fresh, red wetness seeping into the back of Sam's shirt.

“You see,” said guy in robe number two, “this little trinket here is connected to your brother. Anything that we feel like inflicting on him, and I do mean anything, we only have to think it, and it happens.”

“So how about you put down your weapons, surrender, and you won't cause dear Sam here any more pain.” continued asshole one.

Dean raised his hands as placatingly, letting go slowly of his hold on Sam’s arm and took a step to the side.  
A look to Cas, a nod, and they turned and they fought.

Dean fired off a couple of rounds at the dude holding the voodoo cube, which didn't seem to do much to wound him and Dean had half a second to panic that he'd just made their situation infinitely worse but Sam's head didn't explode and he didn't scream again either and Dean registered a blur of dark hair and pale coat as Cas launched himself into action. Cas swiped at the man's wrist, probably slicing through to the bone, forcing him to drop his small cube. And then moved his body weight forward again slicing at the man's chest.

Dean took all this in in his peripheral while he ran at guy two, abandoning his gun in favour of pulling out the first blade. The scuffle barely lasted a minute before Dean had gutted the guy. He turned to see that Cas had beheaded the other with his angel blade.  
These guys clearly weren't built for fighting Dean realised, maybe presuming they'd subdue them all by holding Sam over them as leverage. 

Sam was slumped over on the floor and Dean was torn between going over to help him or moving to pick up the strange object that had hurt Sam so much. He opted for the latter, figuring they needed to know what this thing was if they were going to be able to help Sam. 

As Dean reached the point where the small cube had fallen and crouched down to pick it up Sam made a strangled noise.

“Don't! Please just...don’t.”

Dean looked up at his brother, seeing fear and trepidation on his face, then watched as his features set themselves into determined resolve.

“Please, just. I'll...I’ll get it in a minute. Just please don't touch it.” Sam said.  
“Yeah sure, okay Sammy. Whatever you need.” Dean replied.  
Sam nodded grimly and started trying to rise to his feet. Dean began to move to help him but Sam waved him off.

“Hurts too much,” he huffed out between breaths “I got it.”

Cas spoke then.  
“This...artifact, it can hurt you, whatever they thought about happened to you, yes?”

“Yeah. It, well, it can do anything. They, ahh, mostly used it to…”

Cas interrupted “So can it also heal you?”

“Yes,” Sam replied “Yeah they did that when I started losing too much blood. I'll grab it in a minute and then I can...” 

Sam’s breathing was becoming laboured and Dean couldn't take it anymore.  
“Look in that case,” and he picked it up, ignoring Sam's grunt of protest, and thought about his brother whole, healed and unhurt.  
Again a faint purple light glowed briefly and Sam cried out, throwing his head back and arching his back. 

Then he slumped forward again, and Dean watched all the tension drain out of his body as his breathing evened out. 

“That work then?” Dean asked. 

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, looked up and smiled “Thanks.”

Deans felt his face light up then too, seeing Sam found and safe and now relatively okay. He stood, walked over to Sam and hauled him to his feet, dropping the small, cold cube into his brother's hand.

“Guess you better hang onto that until we figure out what it is then.”

~ ~ ~

Sam's clothes were disgusting, crusted with blood, and Dean had all their stuff ready in Baby's trunk so he changed right there at the car.

“Any idea who these guys were?” Dean asked.

“I imagine witches of some sort, your bullets didn't have much of an affect on them.” Cas said.

“Yeah I think so,” Sam replied “They wanted the location of the bunker. Said we had some stuff there stolen from their cult, - coven,whatever - and they wanted it back.”

“And it was just the two of them?” said Dean.

“I only saw those two. I think they were reporting back to someone else. I, err, gave them some false coordinates a couple times. They never left me but a few hours later they seemed to know that I'd lied.” Sam shrugged.

“Oh I bet they loved that.” Dean quipped. 

“Hhm, yeah.” Sam huffed as he clambered into the car “Yeah it was a great plan on my part.”

Once they were all in the car and Dean was pulling out onto what counted as the main road around here Cas asked Sam to show him his wrist. Sam turned immediately and held his left arm out for Cas to look at. Dean frowned and glanced over to see what they were doing and realised there were swirling purple, tattoo-like marks encircling both of Sam's wrists. Dean hadn't noticed them before, and felt a niggling annoyance at himself not noticing something important about Sam's well being. 

Shaking it off he focused in on what they were saying.

“...connected to that artifact?” Cas was saying

“Yes, once they had me they held the cube to each wrist and spoke some words, Latin I think or very similar, and the markings flowed out from the stones on each side and into my skin. It burned but...then they were fine. Of course then I learned what it meant they could do…” Sam trailed off.

Sam didn't need to finish that sentence. He'd been tortured. But in true Winchester fashion now that it was over you moved on and you didn't think about it.

“How’d they even grab you in the first place?” Dean asked, happy to change the subject.

“Knocked me out from behind, I didn't even hear them coming. Must have used a spell or something.” Sam replied. “Hey, pass me your phone I lost mine when they jumped me.”

Dean fished into his pocket for it “Why?” he asked.

“I want to see if I can look up what these symbols on the cube are, or see if I can find reference to these markings.” 

“Can't you wait ‘til we're back at the bunker for that? I mean you must be exhausted, get some shut eye man.”

“Oh and I'm sure you're so we'll rested!” Sam countered “Did you even sleep while I was gone?”

“I'm fine!”

“He barely stopped,” Cas said from the back seat “Really neither if you should be doing anything strenuous right now. Driving certainly seems unwise.”

“Shut up, man.” Dean said, not unkindly.

So they spent the rest of the drive back to the bunker with Sam glued to the phone emailing himself links to any site that might have useful information while they all traded theories back and forth on what kind of magic could be at work here. Dean could barely keep his eyes open the last few miles, and looking over at Sam saw that he wasn't faring much better. 

Once Dean had Baby parked and they'd stumbled down the steps into the bunker Sam made as if to head straight for the library. Cas stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. 

“Sam, you really should rest. I'll find all the reference books we need and anything that seems as though it may be useful. Please get some sleep. At least a few hours, both of you.” he said, turning to look at Dean too.

“Yeah okay, thanks Cas, that'd be...that's great.” Sam grimaced and dragged himself off towards his room. Dean nodded to Cas, hefted his duffle bag onto his shoulder and headed after Sam.  
~ ~ ~

They did nothing but sit around reading very old texts and files for two days. Two days and they had almost nothing, and certainly nothing close to remove the marks from Sam's wrists. The only information they'd gleaned so far was that it was an off shoot of some kind of Djinn magic. Only instead of making a dream-like reality it was using the process almost in reverse, turning thoughts into real life.

Sam kept his, and Dean really had started to think of it as Sam's, cube relic close all the time. Not wanting it out of arm's reach, taking it with him every time he left the room. Dean couldn't blame him, he'd want to do the same too, if the situation were reversed. 

After a few hours on the first day of Sam being antsy and nervous every time one of them had had to pick it up to double check the symbols etched on the sides, they'd copied everything down onto paper so that neither Cas or Dean had to touch it.

Sam had remembered the words that had been used to activate the spell but that hadn't got them very far. After a while Cas had asked Sam to lay out in detail exactly what had been inflicted on him, hoping to find a clue in there somewhere. Dean had sucked it up and listened as Sam listed off everything from imitating whip lashings to cracked bones, and then Sam paused and frowned. 

“Actually, one of the first things they did was use it to stop me moving. They could just...completely immobilise me, or parts of me. Until I was too beat up to be able to move anyway. Does that help?” he said.

Cas had thought that yes, that was helpful information, that he'd read something somewhere that mentioned an object that could do that. And it had led them to a reference of the type of magic used. Then on to a vague mention of the artifact in question and then nothing else.

Dean suggested a break after that.

~ ~ ~

“I think we've looked through everything ever written.” Sam said half way into the fourth day.

“This library definitely isn't big enough to hold every book ever written. But we certainly have read everything the Men of Letters had about magic and curses.” Cas said without looking up from his side of the desk.

Dean caught Sam's eye at that and suppressed a smirk. Cas, always so literal when his brain was occupied with other thoughts. 

Dean had given up on what he was supposed to be reading hours ago and was using the laptop in front of him to check news reports for possible cases. Anything to get out of these four walls for a while.

 

As it headed towards being a week since they got back to the bunker Cas brought up the subject of having to get back to helping Hannah on her mission to round up stray angels. Neither Dean or Sam could object as things had ground to a halt anyway. 

So Cas left and promised to keep working on the problem, said he would ask Hannah if anything of this sort of artifact was known about in heaven.

And after that life fell pretty much back into it's usual patterns. Dean picked up a simple salt and burn one state over, Sam found a lead on a ritual sacrifice and so they headed out and took on cases. 

Dean noticed Sam absently rubbing his wrists sometimes and he also noticed that Sam brought the artifact with him whenever they left the bunker. He'd thought Sam would want to lock it up somewhere that no-one else could get at it but when he asked Sam he said he felt better knowing where it was. He said it with a shrug and changed the subject. So Dean let it lie. 

The days trickled by and became weeks and Dean stopped finding the sight of Sam's magically inked wrists unusual and Sam, well Sam, it seemed, got a bit complacent.

~ ~ ~

 

It was the end of a ghoul case when it started. Ghouls always put a bit of a spanner in the works. Ghouls connected easily with thoughts of Adam, and thoughts of Adam led onto thoughts of all the people they hadn’t been able to save and that's not something that does anyone any good. So they both did their best to button up their emotions and power through the case as quickly as possible. 

But putting all their mental energy into resolutely not thinking about things they didn't want to think about put both brothers in a terrible mood. They lost patience with each other and butted heads over everything. 

Who's turn was it to do a beer run. Who gets to sleep on the less disgusting mattress in the motel room.  
_Do you have to watch that while I'm right here, Dean?_  
_Do you have to take so long in the shower Sam?_

Tempers were not just fraying but had fallen apart completely and littered themselves over the thin carpet tiles ready to be tripped over and start another argument. 

They were about to leave to check out and Sam was stuffing the last of his belongings into his bag while Dean finished up at the motel table with his end of the hunt weapons check.

Sam finished, grabbed both his bags and stalked out the door, letting it slam shut behind him for good measure. Dean followed a minute or two later, was just walking past the end Sam’s bed when he felt something press into the sole of his shoe.

And there it was.

Looking perfectly innocent and glinting just a little in the light coming in the motel window. The small brushed silver cube that could end Sam in an instant if the wrong person got their hands on it. Dean shook his head and picked it up. Sam really ought to be more careful with this. He pocketed it making a mental note to scold Sam for it later.

They were five minutes out onto open road when Sam started muttering complaints about the choice of radio station. Dean reached over and dialed the volume up slightly.

“You'll have to speak up Sammy I can't hear a word you're saying!”

Forty five minutes into their journey and they disagreed about which was the quickest road to take to head back to Lebanon.

Two hours later and Sam was talking again. Dean missed the point when he stopped complaining about leg cramp and started getting animated about how stupid other drivers were. Was trying to block him out really, just wanted to listen to some tunes and enjoy the drive. 

He moved his left hand into his pocket and balled it into a fist where Sam couldn't see. Closed his eyes briefly and willed Sam to _just please shut up._

And Sam choked. Spluttered, coughed, leaned forward. Dean glanced at him, felt his annoyance slip slightly and his hand uncurl in his pocket. 

Uncurl from the object it had been holding. 

_Oh_

_Fuck_

He'd done that. Had he done that? He didn't mean to but he was holding the cube so did intent really matter?

Quickly moving his left hand back to the wheel Dean reached over with his right and slapped Sam on the back as Sam cleared his throat. 

“Did ya forget how to breathe there?” Dean said, hoping his voice sounded normal. He leaned over to the back seat and fished around until his hand closed around a bottle of water, chucked it over to Sam, told him to drink. Eyes on the road.

Dean had made Sam stop talking. Dean had made his little brother shut up. This had to be every older siblings dream moment, right?  
Dean was not smirking. He was not.

~ ~ ~

It was late when they made it home and they both went straight to their rooms. Tensions had settled in all the hours in the car but there was no need to be under each other's feet for the rest of the night. 

Dean slung his jacket over his chair without even thinking about it. Was just falling asleep, a smile creeping across his face as he remembered Sam shutting the hell up right when Dean had wanted peace and quiet, and that got him wide awake again. Because _shit_ he still had the cube in his jacket. How would he explain it to Sam now when he should have handed it over straight away?

He got up out of bed and walked over to the chair, fumbled for it in the pocket, and then the other pocket, and then held it flat on the palm of his hand.  
Absolute power. Complete control. Sam should really have been more careful. Maybe Dean would hang onto this, just to see how long it took Sam to realise it was missing if course. It would serve him right for being careless if he panicked and had to admit it was gone. And then Dean would produce it along with an “I told you so” and Sam would be pissed but it would make him think twice about carrying it around all the time. 

Yeah that's what Dean would do. So he slipped it into his night stand and waited.

It took Sam another day and a half to realise something was wrong. Sam didn't say anything but Dean found him restless, nerves twisted taut, searching through the kitchen and then the library.  
“What is up with you dude?” Dean asked.

“It's gone.”

“What's gone?”

Sam gestured stiffly. “That artifact.” A pause “The fucking key to this stupid lock on my wrists!” he yelled and waved his arms in Dean’s general direction.

So this is where you tell him, Dean thought. Right now. Anytime now, just say the words. 

“When did you last see it?” _That is not telling him!_

“I dunno, it can't have been, I mean...I just got so used to having it around I don't think about it! Shit. I really...we have to do something. We have to find it.” Sam was pacing, and then he rounded on Dean.  
“Why aren't you more shocked?”

“I told you to leave it in a safe place, man. I worried something like this would happen. Don't blame me for being unsurprised when our luck is this bad.” 

“What do we do now?” Sam asked, energy draining as frustration and adrenaline wore off.

“Keep looking. I'll...call around the last few motels we stayed in. See if anything turned up.” _This is not coming clean Dean, this is the opposite of coming clean._

“You think I lost it outside the bunker?” Sam replied eyes wide.

“I think it can't hurt to cover all our bases.” Dean spoke as he turned away.

Dean closed the door to his room and sat on the bed. Stared at his shoes, and then the wall and then laid back and stared at the ceiling. Trying to analyse why he was doing what he was doing or, more specifically, not doing what he should be doing. He didn’t come to any conclusions, trying to think rationally about any of this was not getting him anywhere. So he did what he said he would do and made some calls. 

Keep up the charade he decided, bring it out in a few days, say you found it somewhere he hasn't looked yet. It'll be fine, Sam will just be relieved and not ask too many questions. 

That was the plan. A good plan.  
A plan that Dean found harder to follow through than he thought.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updated tags, take note if you're not sure.

Not wanting Sam to find it, Dean took to keeping the cube on his person. Wondering how many days was an acceptable number to continue withholding it from Sam without raising suspicions. It was small and unobtrusive and he only ran his fingers over the surface of it every now and then, just to check it was still there. 

He was aware that living with the Mark had made his patience thinner, he knew that, what he hadn't realised was that living with someone else who had little patience and was just generally cranky could be so damn annoying.   
Sam, understandably Dean had to remind himself, was not in a good mood. Sam had talked his way round to the idea that this could be okay, that nobody knew what the artifact did even if someone did find it. That even if by small chance someone did know what it was they didn't know it was connected to Sam so they still wouldn't be able to do anything with it, or so he hoped, because they wouldn't have a focus to their thoughts. But even so he hadn't really calmed down.

Dean got irritated. And bored. And the Mark was itching for something to fight. And he wanted to blame Sam for all of this even though it wasn’t really Sam’s fault.

He was only fiddling with the cube under the table. He wasn't actually thinking of using it. It just gave his hands something to do while Sam talked, going over possibilities once again about where he could have lost it, or how they could reverse the effects if they didn’t even have the artifact to work with.

He realised Sam was looking at him, eyebrows raised waiting for him to speak. 

“Dean?”

“Hhhmm. What? What do you want me to say?”

“Were you listening at all?”

“Sorry, my mind was somewhere else.” Dean said in reply. 

“Yeah I'd noticed. I know I'm not the only one with a problem right now.” Sam said, nodding towards Dean's right arm “But you could try and focus at least a little.” he stood, started to gather up his laptop and notebooks. 

Dean glowered, aware in the back of his mind that he was sulking, watched Sam pick up his things and as Sam reached for the last one Dean's thoughts crystallised suddenly into one small focused idea. The idea that Sam needed a jolt, to get out of his head _to stop bugging me._

_Zap_

Sam pulled back his hand lightening quick. Dean raised his face to Sam, expression open, questioning. 

“Static shock.” Sam stated. He looked puzzled and reached out again. Nothing happened. He shrugged and walked away. 

Dean sat there breathing hard through his nose. It had worked. His frustration with Sam had gone, they'd avoided a row, and Sam was none the wiser. He looked down at the object in his hand and wondered, could this actually be a good thing?

So he experimented.   
~ ~ ~  
Over the next couple of weeks Dean found over a dozen ways to quietly take his frustrations out on Sam. They weren't even that bad he reasoned with himself, pranks basically. And what person doesn't take the opportunity to prank his brother? And alright the pay off of Sam finding out it was Dean pranking him wasn't there and that was often the best part of a prank, but they weren't arguing and they were working like a well oiled machine!

It was small things, creating a paper cut or a tiny bruise that Sam could brush off as things that just happened in life. The sensation of stepping in a small puddle when Sam wandered around the bunker in his socks. Hiccups or a muscle twitching the small of his back. 

Nothing that was actually doing Sam any harm, he thought. Just a way to clear the air between them without having to actually fucking _talk_. 

It wasn't always that Dean would do it to end a disagreement, mostly they got along after all. But sometimes Sam would look at him with too much pity or concern, telling him they'd fix the Mark, or that Sam was here if Dean needed him. And Dean didn't often want that, he didn't want to talk about it or be treated like he was sick, so he’d let Sam say his piece and figure out a way to release his annoyance later on.

Once, in the early hours of the morning unable to sleep, Dean wandered past Sam's room and heard the distinct sounds of him having a nightmare. He slowly opened the door and peered in to find Sam thrashing in his covers sporadically, breathing ragged. Dean stood there wondering what to do, as he knew from experience that being woken up from a dream that bad was disorientating, that Sam could be shaken up the entire day if woken up in the middle or that he could end up with a punch to the jaw before Sam realised what was happening,

An idea came to him after a few moments and he sprinted back to his room to rifle through his clothes. Artifact in hand he wondered what would work, settled on thinking _calm-quiet_ repeatedly as he wandered back down the hall. Reaching Sam's door he looked in and it seemed to have worked. Sam was still and his breathing was more regular.

_So you see_ , his brain supplied, _this is good. This is helping, this can't be a problem when it's **fixing** problems._

 

The nightmare incident played on Dean’s mind in the following days as he realised how much of an influence he could have over Sam. And without examining too closely why, Dean approached this as a puzzle to try and figure out. Exactly how much could he do to Sam without him noticing? How many things could he change before it went too far? 

_Because things definitely haven't gone too far yet. Not at all. This is just a prank. This is definitely not something to worry about._

_Sam never has to know._

Dean began to get a little more inventive.   
~ ~ ~

He made Sam crave a very weird assortment of foods the next time they were sat in a diner. He honestly hadn’t expected it work and was delighted when it did. Managing to pass of his face splitting grin as a mockery of Sam's strange food choices.

At the next motel they had to stay in Sam spent a few hours convinced the place must be haunted because he kept getting random chills. Dean just rolled his eyes every time he got out the EMF meter and waited an extra few minutes to cause another round of goosebumps to appear on the back of Sam's neck.

And then there was the old lady that they had to interview for a case. Sam was distracted and flustered the entire way through after getting a very persistent boner. He excused himself quickly afterwards and disappeared into a nearby restroom. Dean didn't say anything when Sam reappeared but raised his eyebrows questioningly. Sam, looking a little embarrassed, shrugged and got in the car. 

Dean felt particularly proud of that one. So proud that he used it several more times. Along with, at times he was particularly annoyed, creating an urgent need to piss. Both got Sam out of the room doubly quick. Sometimes Dean just needed time alone. 

~

A few days later Sam got a call from Cas. He came hurrying into the kitchen waving to get Dean's attention.

“Hang on Cas...okay you're on speaker phone. Say that again.”

“I found out how to remove the spell.” intoned Cas's voice “Hannah and I found the rest of the coven, we took care of them and found scrolls with reference to the artifact. It looks like it should be fairly straight forward.”

“Cas that's amazing! Seriously. Thank you.” Sam said “What do we need?”

Dean watched Sam's face seeing it filled with relief. Sam caught his eye and smiled, Dean nodded back. This was good, taking the decision out of Dean's hands. It had been a good prank but it had to end sometime.

“Nothing much” came Cas's reply “We've got the translation for the spell and you've got the artifact, that should be all we need.”

Sam's face fell. He hesitated.

“Cas…”

“Yes Sam?”

“I don't, we, I mean…”

Sam looked to Dean again. Dean held his gaze not knowing what else to do.

“We don't have it. I, I lost it.”

The pause seemed to stretch on for eons and Dean’s mind scrambled to find a reason why he wasn't speaking up right now. Or why he hadn't come clean weeks ago.

“....You **lost** it?” Cas yelled down the phone.  
“How could you lose it? I thought you'd be more careful than this.”

“I know Cas, it was stupid. I don’t know what to tell you, it's not like I meant to.” Sam said quietly.

Dean heard himself speaking before realising what he was saying  
“Maybe there's another way Cas, if you've got the right info maybe we can look it over, maybe...”

“There isn't Dean we've looked at it all. We need the cube to pull the spell back into. The magic was contained within the stones, is now contained in Sam, and has to go back to where it originated from.”

Another pause. Another moment of watching Sam's face as he tried to pull himself together. Another minute to think of a response, an idea to make this all okay, to put an end to it.

“Look, tell me where you last remember you had it and I'll search for it. We can fix this, I will fix this for you if I can Sam.” Cas said.

Sam agreed and left the kitchen to send Cas the information he had, as much as he could remember.

The moment passed and Dean just stood there.

~ ~ ~

Dean stopped. He stopped using the artifact. He stopped being annoyed with Sam over the small things.   
But he did start thinking. A lot. Trying to come up with some explanation for what he'd been doing. He knew it was fucked up, had always known that and yet it hadn't stopped him. He wondered how much of this he could blame on the Mark and how much was just him. Just Dean - taking pleasure in being in charge, in control, doing whatever he felt was best, whatever made him feel better regardless of anyone else.

It took half a day for Dean to realise he was still carrying the fucking thing around with him. He only noticed because he found himself worrying at it with his hands. He realised with a lurch how comfortable he'd become with it, how often he found himself running his fingers over it or just lightly keeping hold of it in his pocket or under the table. How okay he was with literally having a hold over Sam with just the brush of his fingertips.

He was just considering getting up and going to find some back corner of the bunker to stuff it away forever when Sam came in saying he'd caught a case. 

And just like that they were up and out. No time to think when there are lives to save.

~ ~ ~

The case went fine, easy really, a cursed object that was simple enough to find and contain. Sam noticed how quiet and out of sorts Dean seemed though and he wouldn't let up once they were back at the bunker, sat together in the library. He was talking about really hunkering down again, looking for a fix for the Mark again. As if that had ever been a productive use of their time.

It took Dean a few minutes to notice that what had started as a simple conversation had escalated into all out yelling. 

They hadn't argued like this in weeks and of course Sam had no idea why that was.

“You just don't seem that invested in fighting this!” Sam yelled.

“Oh I'm invested! You really think I could be an uninterested party with this thing on my arm? Like I could somehow forget? I just don't want to look at this the same way you are.” 

“But what you're talking about is giving up Dean,” Sam said, quieter now. “And I won't let you.”

Sam turned to walk away, got maybe half a step.

“You won't let me huh? Let me tell you Sammy you are not in a position to be the one telling anyone what to do!” Dean bellowed back. Before he could think about it too much, or before he could stop himself, Dean shoved a hand into his pocket and spoke to Sam's back.

“Stop.”

And Sam did.

He tried to turn around and found his feet stuck to the floor.

“Dean what the hell? I can't move...what…” he cut off as Dean circled around in front of him holding up the small metal cube. 

Sam looked shocked and betrayed, just a hint of disbelief and confusion playing around his eyes. Right now that look was fuel on Dean's very angry fire.

“You and me are not done talking yet.” Dean said, letting the words hang in the air between them.

“How long?” Sam spoke, low and commanding.

“Ever since you lost it. Woulda left it in that motel room after the ghoul case if I hadn't walked right over it. Of course it took me a while longer to start using it, or well, using it regularly anyway.”

“You've been using it? How? What for Dean?” Sam spluttered sounding hurt and worried now.

“Oh, this and that, getting little pieces of satisfaction in to let off steam. A paper cut here, a weird surge of arousal there…” 

“What the fuck Dean!”

“Hadn't you wondered why I was letting so many small things go? You know we haven't disagreed with each other in weeks and that's all down to me - well and this.” He held it up to the light.

“So,” Dean continued walking back around Sam and pushing a chair up to his knees “Why don't you have a seat,” and Sam’s body folded beneath him into the chair “and don’t frickin’ move so we can finish our discussion.”

Sam sat solidly, unmoving in the chair. His arms pressed tight onto the armrests and his legs pulled close the chair legs.

“This isn't okay Dean. This is so far from okay! You need to stop this right now.” 

Dean was barely thinking, he didn't have to, he'd grown so used to how to manipulate Sam with this magic that he didn't even need a direct thought anymore, just enough intent and motivation and the deed was done.

“Shut up Sam.” and Sam's jaw snapped shut. Dean could see the muscles straining around his face and neck as attempted to open his mouth again. He made a muffled grunt in the back of throat but talking was certainly out of the question now. 

“It's my turn to get my point across.”

Dean paced in front of Sam and wondered where to start, what to say that would make Sam see his point of view.  
“I'm not asking you to give up, I'm not giving up. I'm just saying that maybe we shouldn't run headlong into this situation, like we always do, without thinking about what it means. Maybe this isn't something that should be fixed but something we, **_I_** , have to accept and live with, until I can't anymore. Maybe this isn't something I get to walk away from unscathed because it's not _made_ to be that way and maybe that's okay!”

Sam shook his head and glared back at Dean. So apparently the spell hadn't made him completely still, he still had freedom to move his head. He could have that Dean reasoned, no need to make the guy uncomfortable. He just needed to get Sam to understand this.

“Don't look at me like that dude. In fact” Dean paused, considered. Was he really about to this? “Yeah y'know what, maybe don't look at anything for a while, help you think.”

Sam wrenched his head to side, trying to inch away for all the good it did him, as his eyelids slid shut and stayed that way. Dean watched him breathe hard and shake his head, make choked off sounds and muffled threats. 

Probably _fuck you_ or _Dean don't_

It didn't make a difference, Dean was in this now all his cards on the table, may as well keep playing.

“A good chunk of time alone with your thoughts might let this sink in, what do you think?” Dean asked.

Sam huffed in response. And Dean had one more awful thought. 

“You're probably not going to like this, but it'll really make you stop, I think.” 

Sam's head jerked up swivelling in Dean's direction before he made one last command and shut out Sam's sense of hearing. 

Dean watched for a moment as Sam groaned and then tried to yell, turning his head this way and that trying to discern something, anything. He made one more small sound that really seemed like it might have been _Dean_ if he could have moved his jaw, and Dean walked away before his resolve had chance to crumble.

~ ~ ~

 

Sam sat in a complete state of shock. Not only was this a lot of information to take in but he was completely disoriented. He swung his head wildly hoping to catch a glimpse of light or a hint of sound.

Nothing.

He was furious. This didn't feel like it could be real. That Dean had had the artifact for so long and not said anything was one thing, but to have been _using_ it? 

It was insane, it didn't compute. Sam couldn't connect the dots to figure out how they'd ended up here. He knew things had been tense between them at times, but to be this bad? That Dean would betray him like this seemingly on a whim, to what? Win some petty arguments? Gain the upper hand over some small irritations?

And then today. This? How was he so mad that he'd restrain Sam like this just to get his point across?

Sam felt his anger rising white hot in his chest and his heart pounding in fury. And alright maybe there was a bit of panic there too, he felt completely vulnerable like this, utter silence like being in a vacuum, trapped behind his eyelids in the dark. Couldn't speak, couldn't move, was stuck in the chair like the tightest ropes he'd ever felt.

And taking stock of all that made his anger rise up anew. He screamed. At least he thought he did. Felt his throat move a bit, feel a bit raw after. But there was no way to tell, Sam couldn't even hear his own voice. It wouldn't sound loud with his jaw clenched shut in any case.

It was strange really...normally in situations like this, tied up or caught in some trap, he'd learned to keep his cool at least to a point. You couldn't think your way out with emotions clouding your judgement.  
But this, this was _Dean_ , and Dean wasn't going to hurt him. _Harm him_ yes sure, obviously he'd already done that, but he wasn't in mortal danger. Which left him free to let his emotions run rampant.

He sat for what felt like an age but he guessed might have only been ten minutes. Slowly it dawned in him that Dean was just leaving him here. He didn't even know if Dean was still in the room. Maybe he'd taken off in the impala for a drive to clear his head...or maybe he was standing there watching, waiting to see what Sam would do. Not that there's a lot I can do he thought bitterly.

He prayed then, a short one to Cas.

_Hey Cas, we're here at the bunker. Things have gone a little south. Maybe swing by if you're close. Or ring Dean, at least.  
Please._

 

Sam tried to keep track of time but it was difficult with no markers of it passing apart from the movement of his chest as he breathed. No way to even hear his own heartbeat.  
He thought maybe half an hour passed. Then an hour? Two?

His fury and fear rose and fell in cycles the longer he was left. Interspersed with weariness and pain in his butt, thighs and back from sitting in one position for so long. 

Sporadically he tried to twitch his muscles but they wouldn't budge.

There really was nothing to do but think. And he thought a lot. About Dean and the Mark, about what he would say when Dean finally released him. He even started contemplating whether Dean was right about the Mark and how to handle it, but he quickly pulled back from that idea.

No chance that was Dean going to get his way just because he'd pulled this crap. Sam would not give him the satisfaction.

He kind of felt like he was floating. Although he could feel the solid weight of the chair pressing into him, in every other way he felt weightless, could have been upside down for all he knew. He felt so disconnected from every other thing in the world.

He didn't even realise his head was lolling forwards, couldn't tell which way was up anymore until suddenly there was a touch on his arm and Sam flinched at the shock, wrenching his head up and back. He'd had no warning and his heart beat furiously again at the jolt.

He tried to make some vocalization, hoping it was loud enough with no way to tell. 

He hoped it was Dean but didn't know what to hope for if it was. 

Another slight grip to his shoulder and Sam shook his head.

And then a soft touch to the side of his temple that felt like two fingers.

So.

Cas, then.

The relief was instant. Followed closely by an embarrassed flush rushing up his face at how stupid he felt to be seen in this predicament in the first place. 

Maybe Cas was speaking, calling his name to try and get him to open his eyes. Sam imagined he would. 

Then a gentle touch to his hand, two quick pats. Sam hoped that meant Cas was going to go find help, find Dean and get this sorted out. 

So he sighed and nodded. And let his head fall forward again.

~ ~ ~  
Dean had gone first to the kitchen to make himself coffee and grab some beers, wanting to be awake and buzzed, then to his room settle down and watch a film. A good couple of hours should be enough time for Sam to see his point of view. 

Dean hadn't wanted space to think himself though which was easy enough while the movie played but not so much once it finished. His brain skirted around the problem of what to do next, what Sam would really say when he went back to release him.

Release him.

Fuck. Sam needed _releasing_ because Dean had locked him into chair. There was no way this could end well. 

Dean moved to his record player to blast out some music, ratcheted the volume all the way up to drown out his unwanted thoughts and then sat to try and collect himself. 

So he didn't hear Cas calling his name through the halls and nearly jumped out of his skin when Cas barrelled his way into the room. 

Cas rushed over to the record player, lifted the needle and rounded on Dean.

“Where is it?” 

Dean stood there mouth agape as Cas's eyes slid over him and around the room, settling on the bedside table where the cube sat glinting slightly in the low light. Cas took three steps forward and pushed against Dean's chest to get him to move.

“What are you doing Dean? Why would you do that to Sam?”

Dean stuttered because he didn't have an answer.   
“I don't know alright! It just sort of happened. I didn't exactly plan this y'know. I just…”

“What Dean? What possible reason could you have that would make this okay? Do you even know how you left Sam? He can't move Dean, couldn’t even hear me approaching! I had to look into his head to find out what was wrong because he couldn't answer me.” Cas yelled.

“I know I screwed up, I have been screwing up! I was just sat here trying to figure out how to fix it, okay. I'm not a complete monster.”

“You fix it by going out there are setting Sam free.” Cas said, a hard flat tone to his voice “How long has it been?”

Dean sagged not wanting to have to admit it for a second time in one night.   
“I found it straight away. As soon as he lost it. I really didn't mean to start using it on him! It was an accident but then, well then it wasn't. And I just couldn't seem to stop. Didn't want to stop.”

He hung his head and sighed before looking up, hoping to see some understanding on his friends face and then felt terrible for wanting a sign that Cas didn't believe he was a monster.

“That's not what I meant Dean. I meant how long have you left your brother out there like that?”

Dean didn't answer straight away. Did not want to think about how long it had really been.

“Nearly three hours. I think. Shit.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair and down his face and sagged against the wall.

Cas stormed past him grabbed the artifact off the nightstand, turned quickly on his heel and left the room. Dean rushed out after him.

Cas spoke in a hurry as they jogged back to library, Dean half a step behind.

“You will let me fix this Dean, and not touch this” he waved the metal cube in Dean’s direction “Ever again.”

“I don't know how it got this bad Cas. I never meant to hurt him.”

Cas stopped and turned around to face him, narrowing his eyes and then stepping close to Dean's face.

“It got this bad because the magic wants to be used. As much as it was tuned into Sam's body, the more you used it the more it wormed it's way into your mind wanting to be evoked more every time. If you'd given it back to Sam when you found it, it would never have been a problem!” Cas said sounding exasperated.

He sighed and pinched his nose  
“From what I can gather from the scrolls the coven had, it’s very potent stuff. The amount they used it on Sam...I’m surprised he wasn’t already dead when we got to him. They must have been trained to withstand the urge to let it escalate out of control. Seemingly they had more control than you anyway.”

“So, it wasn't all my fault then?” Dean asked quietly “If it wanted to be used then that's why I couldn't stop, right?”.

Cas looked at him sadly, sighing deeply before turning away again.

“Yes and no. You made the decision to start, you made the decision to keep using it. The desire had to be in you, the spell only made it stronger.”

Dean had no response to that so followed Cas meekly into the library. 

~ ~ ~

Sam, of course, was exactly where Dean had left him. He looked in bad shape too, breath hitched a bit as he slowly twitched his head side to side. 

From what Cas had said, Sam knew Cas was here because he'd touched him. He must be waiting for something to change. 

Cas paused briefly in front of Sam, considering.

Dean watched him close his eyes and remembered how focused he'd had to be when he'd first begun using the magic.

Sam's eyes flew open first and he squinted trying to shield himself from the sudden influx of light. After a moment he looked up at Cas, hopeful, and nodded. Cas smiled back. Then Sam's eyes flicked to Dean and there was barely contained rage there. Dean flinched back a step.

Cas took stock again and then Sam grunted in surprise, recoiling slightly.

“We're going to do this slowly Sam. The sensations will be a shock after being deprived of them for this long.” Cas spoke quietly but Sam still grimaced at the sound.

Dean watched him steel himself and nod again. 

Then Dean noticed something else change,Sam's body sagged slightly, his mouth parting a bit while he wriggled his fingers.

Over the next five minutes Cas methodically released Sam from the imprisonment Dean had forced him into. He talked quietly to Sam as he went along, telling him what he would do next, how he would increase his range of hearing by degrees or slowly awaken his muscles.

By the end Sam rose shakily to his feet, leaning into Cas's touch and holding him in a brief embrace.

He spoke then and his voice sounded gravelly. Dean wondered how much Sam had tried to scream while he had been happily ignoring him in another room.

“Can you still remember how to remove the spell?” he asked Cas.

Cas smiled. 

“Yes I can do it now it won't take long. Maybe you should sit down again though.”

Sam hesitated and glanced over at Dean. He shuffled over to the edge of the table and perched there. 

Of course he wouldn't want to sit in a chair right now. He'd been forced into one for hours. Dean felt disgusted with himself and moved away into the map room.

Cas gently took hold of Sam's hands and positioned his arms out in front him and held the artifact up between them, equal distance from each wrist. 

He spoke a series of words, sounding them out carefully. He repeated them slowly three times and the intonation changed slightly each time.

Nothing happened for few agonising seconds and then the markings on Sam's wrists began to swirl. Sam’s eyes widened, and then he gasped in pain as the marks lit up and flowed out of his skin, forging a bright path through the air towards the stones on opposite sides of the cube.

When it was done the small stones that had been a dark fathomless black glowed purple and Sam's wrists were clear.

~ ~ ~

Sam stood there leaning against the table's edge looking at his bare wrists. They looked odd without the purple designs surrounding them, he had begun to believe he’d never be rid of them. And the way this evening had started he hadn't expected it to be over a few hours later. Sitting in that chair for hours with nothing to do but chew over the fucked up situation he'd started to wonder if he'd ever even move again.

He still felt a bit disorientated, like he could be dreaming, there was too much sensory information to process after the hours of nothing.

He really hoped this wasn't a dream. 

Sam reached his hand out and Cas let him take the cube. Sam held it loosely in his hand and looked up to find Dean watching him cautiously. 

“How could you.” he said. It came out quieter than he'd planned. His anger had turned into a steely, icy thing.

“I'm sorry.”

“You're **sorry**? That's all you've got? After everything, Gadreel and stopping me finishing the trials and everything, you do something like this, **again**. And all you've got to say is you're sorry?”

Sam weighed his options.

“I can't keep going down this same road with you Dean. I just can't.”

He remembered the words that had started this whole mess, had spent three days of his life thinking they might be the most important words in the world. Once they had been spoken to begin the spell he'd repeated them to himself like a mantra, hoping they might be the key to his release if he got the chance to use them.

They were burned into his brain.

Could he…? No he shouldn't. But…

His feet moved before he had time to reconsider. 

~ ~ ~

Dean watched Sam lurch up from the table and move towards him, resolving to take whatever hit Sam threw at him. God knows he would deserve it.

“I'm not gonna fight you Sam.”

“No, you're not.”

“I never meant things to escalate this far you have to know that. Cas said, he said the spell wanted to be used and I think he's right. But I know how it started is all on me.”

Sam didn't stop or hesitate at Dean’s words, Dean wasn't even sure he was listening. And before he knew it Sam clocked him hard in the eye and then again on the opposite jaw.

Dean stumbled backwards until his legs hit the map table, his ears ringing slightly. He wouldn't fight back, wouldn't even lift his arms to defend himself.

“You brought this on yourself. You always bring all these terrible things on yourself! Learn from this Dean, let _me_ teach _you_ a lesson.”

And then Sam was grabbing his left hand, dragging it up from where it rested against the table. 

Dean felt something cold press to the inside of his wrist.

Heard Sam speaking words quickly in Latin, realisation dawning on him through the fog of his pounding head and the shock. 

Felt an intense burning pain circle round his wrist as purple light glowed beneath Sam's hands.

Registered a shout, Cas saying _Sam don't_ and _the Mark we don't know what will happen._

And then Sam moved to his right arm and the words and the brief pain and the light all happened again.

Dean gasped in short breaths, held up his arms half-heartedly in front of him. Turned his eyes up to Sam, who closed his fist around the artifact. 

There was an intense dull ache that emanated from his abdomen and spread up his ribs. Felt like Sam had punched him **hard** in the stomach, realised that, in effect, he just had.

Dean slumped down onto the table and looked up at Sam, expecting more, knowing there had to be more.

Sam stood breathing hard, chest heaving, shaking a little. Then he stepped back, twisted slightly to face Cas and threw the cube up, up in a slow graceful arc towards the angel who caught it easily.

“You decide what to do with him. I'm done.” and Sam marched himself out of the room.

Cas and Dean stood looking at each other, Cas cocking his head to side, considering. Dean raised his eyebrows and huffed out a breath through his nose, half shrugged, felt his mouth twitch up at one corner almost like a smile, a question.

Waited for Cas's admonishment.

But Cas turned and walked out too. 

Dean was left with tattoos on his wrists and a hollow ache of nervousness in his chest for whatever was to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know, I'm terrible for leaving Dean - and you - hanging like that. It just felt right* to leave him to stew for a while. In my head I don't imagine Cas (at least in Canon) leaving Dean for too long or doing anything with it, just leave him to think he might for while but then remove it. But it's up to you, choose your own adventure!
> 
> So there's my first ever Supernatural fic, I hope nobody seemed too wildly out of character. Let me know what you think.
> 
>  
> 
> *That's an awful lie. I just can't decide where to take this, I mean there are SO MANY options. But I may be able to be persuaded to make this into a series if my brain ever gets one coherent idea together.


End file.
